


A Good Start

by graysonsflight



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Tea, Tim's not sure what to make of Damian being nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graysonsflight/pseuds/graysonsflight
Summary: Despite his exhaustion, there was something Tim loved about this time of day, when everything was quiet and motionless. It was a pause, not yet the end but still teetering on new beginnings. He pushed open the door to the kitchen, fully intent on a snack and maybe some tea, when he realized his earlier assertion of being the only one awake had been wrong.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Comments: 21
Kudos: 176
Collections: Gotham Square (Batfam Discord Fics)





	A Good Start

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a 100 word exercise and then the story just kind of... made itself known. Please enjoy this little bit of Tim and Damian bonding. Thank you to [Selkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sElkieNight60) for the prompt of "Please, can you give that back?" and to the rest of the Otherworlders for your debates on the proper procedures for a cup of tea.💛

Tim was aware that he should have been sleeping. He knew that the rest of the house was – even Bruce had gone to bed more than an hour ago. He made his way down stairs, not needing to turn the lights on to find the kitchen.

Despite his exhaustion, there was something Tim loved about this time of day, when everything was quiet and motionless. It was a pause, not yet the end but still teetering on new beginnings. He pushed open the door to the kitchen, fully intent on a snack and maybe some tea, when he realized his earlier assertion of being the only one awake had been wrong.

Damian sat at the breakfast table, his small body hunched over a sketchpad, a still steaming tea cup at his elbow indicating that he hadn’t been there long.

“Drake.”

“Demon Child,” Tim greeted before he could stop himself. He watched as the newly minted twelve year old in question recoiled, his brow furrowing as the rest of his face tightened.  _ Shit _ .

“Damian, I – ” he tried again, scrubbing his hand over his face. So much for  _ new beginnings _ .

“Don’t bother with some tepid apology, Timothy. I am not, as you say, a  _ child _ , in need of your approval.”

A part of Tim wanted to back out the way he’d come, maybe just keep walking until he found a hole to bury himself in. He had been trying lately,  _ actually _ making an effort to be more open with the kid, more like the brother he was supposed to be. And here he was, at quarter to five in the morning, mucking all of that up.

He sighed, and despite his sense of self-preservation, pushed into the room anyway. “Well, I am sorry anyway. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Behind his back, he could hear Damian’s huff. It was as clear a dismissal as Tim had ever heard – and he’d heard a lot of them in his life.

Without another word, Tim set about making his tea. He pulled down one of his favorite mugs and filled it at the taps. Then made his way over to Alfred’s tea cabinet, pulling out the package for his favorite  _ tension tamer  _ tea. The whole time he could feel Damian’s eyes boring holes into him. Not for the first time, Tim found himself grateful the kid wasn’t a Super. Had the world granted Damian Wayne laser vision, Tim would have been a pile of ash ten times over by now.

Trying to ignore him, Tim put his mug into the microwave and pushed the button for two minutes; hot enough to burn away his embarrassment but just cool enough to actually swallow.

“What are you  _ doing? _ ” Damian demanded incredulously.

Tim turned to face him, crossing his arms to try and hide the little jump he’d done at the sound of the kid’s voice.

“What?” he asked, confused.

Damian’s eyes darted uncomfortably between Tim and the microwave, with each pass growing more and more suspicious.

“What on earth are you doing with the microwave?”

Tim let his mouth drop open a little, as he turned toward the glowing appliance. “I just want some tea, Damian. It’s not a big deal.” He held up the unopened tea bag as if that alone would be enough to soothe the disproportionately annoyed face that Damian was giving him.

“ _ Tea? _ ”

“Yeah,” Tim answered dumbly. “You know, tea.” He brought his hand to his mouth, pinky finger extended an exaggerated facsimile of British manners.

Damian’s only response was a long suffering sigh as he unfolded himself from the table and moved to stand next to the microwave. Tim continued to watch him until the beeping of the microwave drew both their eyes.

Before he could react, Damian opened the door and removed Tim’s mug, eyeing it like it had insulted his family – or  _ worse _ – his  _ dog. _

“What are you…Please? Can you give that back?” Tim asked. For his part, Damian gave no indication that he heard a word Tim had said and instead made his way to the sink, dumping the steaming liquid down the drain.

“Damian!” Tim barked. “ _ Why? _ ”

“I refuse to let you drink that abomination,” Damian said, leveling a cool glance in his direction. “We have an English butler which means you unquestionably know better, and since Father’s name happens to be on your adoption papers, I refuse to let you shame the family in this way.”

Tim opened his mouth; he had absolutely no way to respond to that and make it intelligent. “ _ I just wanted some tea _ ,” he heard more than felt his own voice leaving his throat. Apparently his brain had chosen to go with the obvious and easiest thing to deflect to instead touching Damian’s vague acknowledgement of being a family.

“That would not have been  _ tea _ , Timothy.”

He stood still, mind racing as Damian moved around him to fill the electric kettle with water. When the kid held out his hand for Tim’s teabag, he handed it over without comment – not quite sure what to make of his current situation.

Neither one of them talked as the water came to a boil, the sounds of the kettle whirring and the water roiling the only soundtrack in this bizarre one act play. A part of Tim wondered if he’d fallen through a hole in the space-time continuum. How would he  _ know _ if he had stepped onto a different world – a different plane of existence? One in which  _ Damian Wayne _ offering him a steaming mug of tea was supposed to be treated as  _ normal. _

“What  _ is _ this?” he asked finally, his fingers tight around the mug as the heat seeped into his skin, if not his soul.

“That is  _ actual _ tea. Prepared as it  _ should _ be, using a proper electric kettle.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to form a better question: “Yeah, but…?” he trailed off, apparently failing.

Damian rolled his eyes dramatically, turning to go back to the table and his own tea. “You don’t have to just stand there, like a fool,” he muttered, eyes locked on his sketchbook instead of on Tim.

He was still pretty sure it was a parallel universe, but as long he was stuck in it, Tim figured he might as well play along. He sat down beside his  _ little brother _ , sipping at his tea carefully.

“So…uh…what are you working on?”

Damian arched a brow at him before setting down his pencil. “Why?”

“Why what?” Tim asked, shifting so as to be out of striking distance.

“Why do you care?”

Tim let a contented smile onto his face. This felt better, more normal and predictable. “I donno, believe it or not, I do actually care about you.”

“I swear to you, I didn’t poison your tea.”

“I know,” he answered, taking another sip. “So, what are you working on?”

Damian sighed, but his eyes still held anxiety as he shifted his sketchbook towards Tim. “Here,” he whispered so quietly, Tim was almost sure he’d imagined it.

He reached over and slid the book even closer. Scanning the page he couldn’t help but smile. “Damian?”

“What?”

“Is this a family portrait?”

“Mostly,” Damian sniffed. “I’ve chosen to include Brown and Gordon as well, although her chair is giving me trouble. I’m going to have to find better references and –”

“Damian, this is  _ really good _ ,” Tim interrupted what he was sure was going to be a spectacularly self-deprecating rant. He would know; he was really good at those himself.

“I… _ thank you _ .”

If Tim didn’t know better, he’d say the kid was blushing. “Is it just for fun or…?”

“No,” Damian interrupted, pulling the book back towards him and studying it critically. “It is supposed to be for…for Father’s birthday. If I can complete it in time.”

“He’ll love it,” Tim answered honestly, trying not to smile too much at the way the kid preened at the praise.

This hadn’t been what Tim was expecting when he’d trudged down the stairs, but as the early morning sunlight crept in through the kitchen window, he had to admit – it was a pretty good start to the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know if you enjoyed it - I appreciate all your comments, kudos, and bookmarks!


End file.
